Just Come and Go
by coqueton
Summary: Aliens and sex
1. Chapter 1

Just Come and Go

* * *

_Love is all you need_

_-All you need is love_

* * *

"_What happens if you fall in love?"_

"_Well, you don't believe that, do you?"_

_-500 Days of Summer_

* * *

Chapter 1

_There's no such thing as love; it's fantasy._

_-500 Days of Summer_

Love. In case you don't know, it's an invention from humans, and they're almost ruled by it. They make songs about it, stories, holidays and they have many kinds of it. Everybody wants to find love and everybody thinks they have the right way to do so. Well, not everybody—some people find out how absurd this concept is, and after learning it the hard way they stop believing in it. But still, there are a lot of people on earth believing that love is what they need and that love can fix all of their problems. Let me tell you how I found out about love.

I came to Earth when my spaceship—which to some might look just like a meteor—got attracted to Earth by a rift in Cardiff. I could give you all the details, but you would find them boring. After it crashed, it opened. If you had seen me at that moment you wouldn't find me very attractive, you would only see me as a purple gas floating around. After I got out I roamed the city of Cardiff to find a host for me. I got to tell you, of all the planets in the universe Earth's got to be the best for my kind. On Earth sex is everywhere. And I mean _everywhere_. There's sex on television, on films, radio, books, magazines, on the streets, the buildings, public transport, and you will always hear it on everyday conversation. And there's also every kind of it. There's sex with males, females, animals, objects, in group, virtual sex—and if you can't find any of these you can always do it by yourself. Some of these practices are not well-seen by some societies, but if you have enough power you can always get it without any trouble. And that's incredible, you can actually buy sex. They have these places called brothels where they have these women called prostitutes. You can go there, pay, and one of them will have sex with you. I heard that there's also a male version of it, and there's also home service; these people go to your home to have sex with you. My host was one of these prostitutes.

Her name was Lori, and she worked in a brothel. Well, she was really a dancer. You see, brothels are not legal. This brothel was located inside an adult entertainment nightclub (a place where women dance with not much clothing on), and clients could come in to see the dancers and then, if they desired an "extra service", they could go in the back to receive it. Not all the dancers were prostitutes and not all the prostitutes were dancers, but some of them worked as both. Lori liked dancing in group, but stayed mostly at the brothel side. She was thirty-years old and she was known to be "kind" to their customers, and she seemed to have a motherly side. Some of the women thought this was "sweet" while others considered it disgusting. She seemed to be a person who wanted her clients to be happy even on the non-sexual part of their lives. I didn't understand any of that.

I took her while she was in the bathroom. A woman came in seconds after. I just stared. "Lori," she said. "Yes?" I replied. She asked if Lori was ok. I said she was and left. I sat down to analyze her brain. I saw what she did for a living and thought it was very convenient. You probably don't know, but my kind feeds off orgasmic energy; that's right, we eat orgasms. This woman received orgasms for a living and got paid after. It was perfect. I finished the analysis, got up and received my first client.

It was amazing, every second of it. From the moment we began I felt so alive, so revitalized. And this man appeared to be enjoying it, too, maybe even more than I did. I saw the look on his face. It was like somebody had finally granted him his ultimate wish. I will never forget that face. We finished and he disintegrated, turned to nothing but dust. I sucked in all the energy. They were right, humans are the best there is! I got up, shook off the dust and went out. Nobody cared about the poor bastard who just came and went. Sex was all there was in everyone's mind. A client looked at me. A signaled him to come in. He got up and let me do whatever I wanted with him without putting a fight.

Next day I decided to go exploring. By knowing Lori's mind I could see that humans are a sex-driven culture, but I was still surprised when I saw it for myself. You could see sex in the windows, the walls, the bottles, the napkins—just everywhere. I had to laugh at that. I had landed in paradise. As I passed all this, I saw a bookstore. In the stalls there was this book, apparently the best-selling of the moment around the world. It was called "The secrets of love: what you know and what you don't about this powerful force" and it had a big red heart symbol in front. If all humans were reading this I thought it would be good for me to read it, too. I took it home—or Lori's—and sat down to read. According to the bookstore and the reviews, this book had changed the lives of many people. The first thing that came to my mind when I finished reading it was that it was ridiculous that people could be convinced that a book could change their lives. I also thought how ridiculous it was that humans believed certain things just because a book says that they're true. The book said that love should be the most important thing in your life, that you should love others and you should let others love you, and if nobody wants to love you there is nothing to worry because the love you have for yourself is enough. I laughed through most of it. I also got a bit confused. It said that sex was the physical expression of two people who are in love, but it also said that just because there's sex it doesn't mean there has to be love, and sometimes sex could be a tool to find someone who you really love. To me it said the same thing I'd seen the whole day: sex is ok if you're ok with it.

The idea of love was absurd to me, but I was still interested in it. Why did humans gave love that much importance? In Earth they have this system, which is sort of primitive, but still can get you the information you need in a small amount of time. It's called "internet", and they have this tool called "search engine" that tells you what you want to know. I asked to know about love. When I got the results, I was more confused. Love wasn't the almighty force of good that the book talked about, it was more like a reason to do irresponsible things. There were stories about people who turned down impressive career opportunities because then they wouldn't be able to be with "the one they love". And that was the least. There were stories about stealing for love, lying for love, hurting people for love, and even killing them for love. And still you had articles about why love is the only thing you need, and why love is the only reason to do anything, and why love is never wrong. I saw many wrong things done because of love; I couldn't believe any of this articles. It seemed to me that love was just something that humanity made up just to justify their mistakes. The more I learned about love the more inconvenient it sounded. But still, people enjoyed being manipulated by love.

I laughed, put everything away and went to work.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_If it comes down to a choice between being unloved and being vulnerable and sensitive and emotional, then you can just keep your love._

_-Choke_

The first couple of days went by easily. I needed energy and everybody was eager to cooperate. Then I met a man. He told me he had trouble with his children. He hadn't seen them in fifteen years and it didn't seem like he was going to see them anytime sooner. He said he deserved it, that he had never been a father. For moment, right before we started, I hesitated. There was a little voice in my mind telling me that I shouldn't go through with it. But I was hungry, I needed it. I told myself that I was helping him end his miserable life. So I took him to bed and ended it, enjoying every moment. When we were done, I felt different. I wasn't hungry, but I was empty. I was feeling guilty. Why? I had only known this man for a few minutes and he wasn't even a good man, not according to what he said. But still, it was an odd feeling and it didn't leave me. I called another client, thinking that maybe that would make me feel better. It didn't. I went through with it, but at the end I felt the same.

I went out, looked around. As usual, sex was in everybody's mind. You could see it in their eyes; there was no room in their mind for anything else. But far on the corner, sitting in the sofa, there was a young man. He didn't look hungry for sex like the rest of the clients. There was some desire from him, yes, but it looked different somehow. I looked into Lori's memories. She had seen this man before. He had never been her client. She didn't know anyone who said that he was her client. A couple of women had offered a courtesy service if he didn't have money and he had refused. And Lori had never talked to him, but the memories of him, sitting in that same spot, where very vivid. She had a special place in her mind for this stranger.

I sat next to him. He just turned his eyes to me for a second—some kind of polite gesture, I assume.

"Hello," I said.

"Hello," he said without much interest.

"You come here often, don't you?"

"A bit, yes."

"Are you disappointed with us? We don't offer what you want? Because some of the girls know a place for tastes like—"

"No, it's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm not sure."

He was wearing a suit and it looked expensive. He didn't lack money, that was for sure.

"Well, you want sex or not? I think that's a very simple question."

He smiled.

"It is. It's not that. I always come here with the idea that I'm going to hire… uh—"

"One of us, yes."

"Uh-huh, for your, uh, services, but when I get here… I'm not in the mood anymore. I am, but… maybe not. I'm not here looking for sex, I'm here looking for company, and that's not what you offer. You can't buy romance."

I laughed, I had to. There it was, love again, ruining a young person's life.

"You want romance so you came to a brothel? You're a good-looking young man with enough money, why don't you go look for romance out there in the world?"

"I already did that; didn't turn out alright."

"And you think it's going to get better here?"

"Listen, I don't want to sound rude, but I don't want to talk about it and I don't want anyone asking me about it. If you want me out because I don't consume, here, I'll pay for your services if you leave me alone."

He took out his wallet.

"Wait, wait, I don't need your money. What the hell do you think I am?"

"A prostitute."

"Um… yes, but that doesn't mean—"

"Here, take."

I looked at him. He had a look that said "get out of my face", except he didn't look angry. He looked sad, as if it hurt to have me next to him. And then an idea occurred to me. It was stupid, but I was so intrigued by this man. He could have what everybody wanted and still didn't want it.

"No, I have a better idea. Why don't you use that money to take me out sometime? Would you like that?"

He looked surprised.

"Like a date?"

"I don't know; call it what you want. You want company, don't you? I'll do my best, then."

He took his time.

"I guess things can't get worse."

"Good. Here's my number," I wrote it in a piece of paper. "Phone me and we'll arrange the details."

"Um, ok. Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now get out of here, you don't even want to be here."

He got up. "Thanks," he repeated.

"Wait," I said. "I don't even know your name."

"I'm Waldo."

"Nice to meet you, Waldo," I came closer to him. "I'm Lori," I whispered in his ear.

He nodded and finally I saw a smile on his face.

We met at a restaurant for lunch. We sat outside. The food that humans eat wasn't as good as the one I'm used to, but it wasn't a problem.

"So, what happened to you?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why do you have money and why do you take it to our brothel but never spend it?

"Ah, well, where do I start? My dad was music composer and he made a lot of money with that. I live off the royalties. Both of my parents died in a plane accident when I was fourteen years old." He looked at me as if expecting some reaction. I didn't show any, so he continued. "I was sad and all that. It was really hard for me. I needed someone to talk to, someone to help me get through it, but I didn't have anyone. I had 'friends', but when my parents died I found out they just liked being with me for my money. They tried to show comprehension, but I could see they didn't care. They looked tired of having to hear me talk about my parents. I stopped seeing them—I stopped seeing everybody, actually. My only friends were our house employees, and since it was only me they had to take care of, I let go most of them."

"What about women?" I asked. "Do you not ask for sex at the brothel because you're scared? I mean, we've had a lot of first timers—"

"No, no, I have been… with someone."

"Oh, have you?"

"Yes. She was the daughter of one of my father's friends. She was the only woman I really knew. She was interested, I was alone, so we tried having a relationship. We did things together, and it helped me to not feel alone at times, but it wasn't working. When I heard about sex, about all the wonderful things everybody talks about, I thought that if I tried it I could be… cured or something, I wouldn't feel so miserable because I could see a brighter side of life. So I had my first time with her, and… it was good."

"And not what you expected."

"No, not at all. I thought that it was normal to feel that way, because it was my first time and I was inexperienced. I thought next time would be better. But next time felt the same. And the next, and the next. I didn't really enjoy her company, we weren't having fun. I don't think you could call what we had intimacy, so I said goodbye to her. And that was it. I've felt sad and alone ever since. A few months back I thought that maybe I should lower my expectations on sex and just enjoy having someone to share a bed with, even if it was only for a few moments. That's why I began to go to the brothel, but every time I get there I remember what I had before and how I didn't like it. That's why you never see me in the mood for it."

"Why don't you just look for a girl? You know, not the kind who sells you an experience in a brothel."

"I've tried. I just can't find her."

I scoffed.

"What do you mean you can't find her? Look around you. There are girls everywhere!"

"I know, I know. But I don't want just _a girl_. I want someone real. I want someone… who I can love and who can love me."

I laughed.

"Oh, right, you want romance. Is it that important?"

"Well, yes," he said as if it were something obvious. "Do you, um, I don't want to insult your profession or anything but, er, do you want to find someone to love?"

"Don't worry, I'm not insulted. No, I don't want to find someone to love. In fact, I don't believe in love."

He showed me that surprised look again.

"You don't… believe in love?"

"I don't."

"But we're talking about love, not Father Christmas or something like that."

"So? Do you have any proof that there is such thing as love?"

"Ask anybody, they'll tell you how real love is."

"That doesn't mean anything. I could tell you we are in Mars, would that mean that we are in Mars?"

"No, but—ok, that doesn't prove anything. How about the scientific evidence?"

"What scientific evidence?"

"Certain parts of your brain light up when you're in love."

"I can kick you in the gonads and make a part of your brain light up. Would you feel love then?"

"No, that's not what—there's also a chemical reaction going on in your body. Your body physically reacts—and I don't mean what happens in men's trousers—when you're in love. Something changes."

"Drugs can also produce chemical reactions. I see it happen every night with the girls. Drugs make them very lively, even more than sex. You know, one of them talked about a story she had heard about a scientist who created a love potion. If you think about it, it's not as ridiculous as it sounds. If love is only a chemical reaction then you can recreate it with a drug, you just have to get that specific reaction and then you can sell it as a love potion. And now that you mention scientific evidence, there is evidence that when people feel they're 'falling in love' they're actually going through a temporary stage of madness. And of course you're mad; somebody else becomes more important than yourself! That's madness right there, that's being high, and you can get the same effect with drugs."

He let out a heavy sigh.

"Alright, let's drop the scientific side of it. I'll tell you something else. My mum and dad met at Leeds, where they went to high school. They dated for three years. My dad wanted to marry my mum right after high school, but then he found out he had been accepted at Berkeley, in California. He never thought he would get in; he knew about music and all, just never thought that he knew enough. Now, Mum's parents never really liked Dad. They wanted her to marry some bloke named Carlton, and Carlton wanted to marry Mum, too. Mum didn't want to, but she had a tendency to succumb to pressure from her father. Dad knew that if he left to California for a long time she might not find Mum single. Also, he knew he couldn't ask her to come with him. He didn't have any income, she would need a visa and probably she would need to put her life on hold just to wait for him. So, he decided to say no to Berkeley and stay and marry mum, and they had a happy marriage until the day they died. If that's not love, then I don't know what love is."

"Oh, everybody has a different idea. And that doesn't prove anything, just that your father threw away his future just to be with a woman."

"It wasn't just a woman, it was my mum."

I shrugged.

"Still. He could have been a very good, famous musician."

"But he was. Even that turned well for him."

"He was lucky. Besides, nobody wants to be the bloke with his name on the credits of an album, they want to be the ones on the cover."

"But—"

He had nothing else. He lowered his head.

"Ok, I'm sorry," I said. "You're right, maybe your father really decided what was best for him."

"Maybe."

"Look, how about we do this again?"

"I don't know. I don't want to bother you."

"You're not bothering me. How about next week?"

He sighed.

"Alright," he replied not sounding very convinced.

It was only a couple of days later that he called. He sounded hesitant.

"Hello? Lori?"

"Yes."

"It's me, Waldo."

"I know. How you've been?"

"I have—um, well, I had a nice time the other day. After that, well, I better not say. Would you like to go out for dinner tonight?"

"Depends on the hour. I have to work, remember."

"Right, right. If you can't it's ok."

"I can. At what time should I be ready?"

"Uh, ok. It's seven good for you?"

"Yes, I'll see you at seven."

"Very well. See you tonight, Lori."

"See you, Waldo."

He picked me up at seven like he said. He took me to a restaurant on top of a hill. "I hope it's not too romantic for you," he said when I saw it. I said I had no idea how romance looked like. He just nodded.

"So, what do you do?" I asked during dinner.

"What do I do?"

"Yes. I assume that when you're alone at home feeling miserable you do something, don't you?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes," I repeated. "What do you do those times?"

"I play the violin. And the piano. Sometimes guitar."

"You do? I suppose your father taught you."

"Yes, he did. And he had a lot of musician friends come over to our house. I also had private instructors when I was little."

"Do you sing, too?"

He laughed nervously.

"No, no, I'm not good at it."

"Did your father sing?"

"A little bit, but he said he wasn't that good. He said he sounded like Bob Dylan."

"Maybe you can sound like Bob Dylan, too. Have you tried it?"

He laughed again.

"Everybody has at one point."

"So you're capable of singing, then. I want to hear."

"Oh, please, no. You'll regret it."

"I'm your date, you have to please me. Sing."

He twisted his mouth. I gave him a smile. He shook his head and smiled too.

"Alright," he said. He breathed in, looked up and began to sway as if to get a hold of a certain rhythm. "_My Bonnie lies over the ocean, my Bonnie lies over the sea. My Bonnie lies over the ocean, oh bring back my Bonnie to me._"

I gave him a little clap.

"Very good."

"Not good enough, heh."

"Good enough for what?" I asked and he looked away. He wasn't going to say it. "Oh, I see. You want to be a rockstar don't you?"

He had the look of a child who has been discovered after doing a bad thing.

"No, it's not that no—please, that's ridiculous," he said laughing nervously.

"It may sound ridiculous to you but it's the truth."

He shifted in his seat, not knowing what to say.

"Not exactly a rockstar," he admitted.

"What exactly then?"

"Just a good musician, like Paul McCartney or Eric Clapton. No, what am I saying—those two are incredibly good. Just something like them. I wanted to be a decent singer and a decent songwriter."

"Do you write songs too?" I asked, and I didn't want to laugh, but I couldn't help it.

"Can we not talk about this?"

"But your father was a professional composer! You probably can get someone that knew him and just tell him that you want to record something. And if they don't you can just pay them."

"I don't want to do that. I want to do it the real way, like have someone hear me and tell me I should share my music with the world."

"For a man who has given up on the world you seem to want a lot of things. How are they going to say that if you don't want them to hear you?"

"Because I know they won't say that. I'm not that good. If they say so they'll just say it because of my father."

I shook my head.

"You really are some troubled man, Waldo. I can't let you go through life like this."

"No?" he said confused.

"No. Our next date is going to be a musical date. I want to hear you play and sing one of your songs, one that you have written." He was about to protest. "I'm not asking. You know what? We should do it right now."

"Ok, ok," he said quickly. "I'll sing you one of my songs, but not now. You have to give me time. I have to get ready. I have to choose one that I like and rehearse it. Please. If I do it I want to do it the best way possible."

I thought about it. It sounded reasonable.

"Alright, but no backing out, understood?"

"Understood."

We finished our meal and he left me at home.

"Thank you," he said. "I had a lovely time."

"Me too," I replied.

He took a step forward, then a step back. He step forward again and this time he kissed my cheek.

"Goodbye," he said.

"Goodbye."

He left and I got ready for work. I was starving.

I had just finished with a client when I sat next to Sherry. She was lighting a cigarette.

"Sherry, what do you think of love?" I asked.

"What about it?"

"Do you believe in love?"

"Are yeh trying to sell me somethin?"

"No, I just want to know."

"Well, I luv me mum. I s'ppose I believe in luv."

"Do you love your father?"

"Fuck that basterd."

"Some people would say that you should love him too, because he is your father. That way you could solve your issues."

"Fuck em too."

"So, at some level, you don't believe in love."

"Is this some philosophic shite?"

I sighed. Carrie was close by.

"How about you, Carrie? Do you believe in love?"

She let out a big laugh.

"Do I look like I believe in love?" she asked.

"Yeh don't luv anyone?" Sherry asked.

"I love good clients. Bloody hell, I fall in love like five times every night!" Carrie said and laughed.

"Five?" said another girl. "You ain't that good, Carrie."

"Shut up, you cunt," Carrie snapped.

"Yeh don't even luv yer son?" Sherry asked.

"Well, I guess I do love him," she admitted.

I had to laugh.

"You are so weak," I told them. "You just mention family and you lot become all mellow. I don't believe in love. I don't believe in love of any kind."

"Really?" Carrie asked. "Or you're just trying to sound cool and mysterious by being a stone cold bitch?"

"I mean it. How do you even know you love someone? How can you be sure that what you're feeling is love?"

"Cause… yer close to em," Sherry suggested.

"How close is close enough to be loved?"

"When they mean something in your life," Carrie replied.

"There's a man out there and he is the father of your child," I told her. "Do you love him?"

"Fuck that bastard," she answered.

"You see? If you try to think about why you love someone you're just going to come up with an answer someone suggested to you."

"Nah, cause yeh feel it even if nobody says so," Sherry said. "Yeh get that need to get a physical… connection with em."

"Sherry," I said, "we have physical connections every night. No, wait, I have a better way to say it: we 'make love' every night. Have you begun to feel love for your clients? Is it love what you feel when they say 'come on dirty whore, gimme what I want cause that's what I paid for, you slut' and they touch you when their filthy hands right before taking them back to their wives?"

"Lori," Sherry said with a disturbed look.

"I love what they give me after," Carrie shared. "I also love big tips. I have a client, girls; I'll leave you to your philosophical debates."

"Anyway," I continued, "I don't believe in love."

"You liar!" said someone else with a scandalous laugh. Maggie, she was called.

"Why?" I asked.

"Don't pretend you don't know, Ms. I-want-more-than-just-a-shag."

"I don't understand."

"That young lad in the suit. You couldn't use your motherly charms—which I'm glad because, honestly, it just creeps me out—with him. I told him that if you fancied him you should encourage him to hire you. Remember what you said?"

"Because I want more than just a shag?"

"Blimey, Lori, yeh said that!?" Sherry asked apparently finding it comical, too. "He's a client, Lori!"

"I'm… sorry?"

"Clients are off limits, yeh naughty girl," Sherry teased.

"Did I say I loved him, Maggie?" I asked.

"Well, no," she answered, "but you didn't rule out that possibility."

I got into Lori's thoughts. She indeed had a thing for Waldo, and she didn't even know him. But it made sense—that's why her memories about him were so vivid and that's why I immediately felt that he was someone that Lori knew.

"Is that why he stopped comin?" Sherry continued. I didn't answer. "Bloody hell, Lori has a boyfriend!"

"Ooooh," Sherry and Maggie wailed.

I laughed.

"Maybe I do," I told them. "I don't care. I can have a boyfriend and make endless love to him without loving him. You know how I know that? Because I've done it before."

They didn't know how to react. I got up and called for my next client.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_The A they're both wearing - I think it stands for "asshole." Wanna know why? Because they fell in love and love is for stupid assholes. And this book is just about a bunch of assholes who fell in love, like assholes, then had to die, like assholes._

_-Crazy, Stupid Love_

Three days later I got a call in the afternoon. It was Waldo, obviously.

"Hello, Lori," he said.

"Hello, Waldo."

"How are you today?"

"As usual."

"Can I ask when your night off is?"

"Um." I thought about it. It was that day, but my hunger had no days off. I still had to find a way to satisfy my hunger. But he sounded confident on the phone, unusually confident. "Tonight. Why?"

"Would you like to join me this evening? I prepared what you asked for."

"Oh, you did. Sounds… great."

"Would you be able to join me at eight o' clock tonight?"

"Sure."

"Would you mind if I sent a car to get you?"

"I don't mind."

"Wonderful. I'll see you tonight. Oh, and I don't want to put pressure on you, but formal dress attire is suggested."

"I'll have that in mind."

"Alright. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Waldo."

He hung up. He had never sounded so confident. Maybe he rehearsed the phone call, too.

I decided to look deep into Lori's wardrobe. At the end there was a black dress that seemed to match Waldo's dress attire expectations. I looked for shoes, necklace and earrings. I did an internet search to make sure my selected attire made sense for humans. By the pictures, I realized many clothing pieces shouldn't make sense to anyone but still people liked wearing them. I decided my attire was good enough and decided to wait for Waldo's car. I felt hungry. I knew I could manage, though. I kept waiting and finally the car arrived. It was what humans call a "limousine". The driver opened the door for me and I got in. The limousine had a room inside. The driver told me to help myself if I wanted anything and closed the door. I spent the whole way just staring at the inside.

The limousine stopped and the driver opened the door. He helped me get out. I was in the middle of something that looked like the courtyard of a castle. Behind us there were a couple of gate doors that were closing now, in front of me there was an enormous house the size of a hundred spaceships, and next to where I was there was something called a "fountain" almost the size of Lori's apartment. On one side of the fountain there was a table with candles on it and on the other side there was a piano with Waldo standing next to it, wearing what I assumed was a formal attire. In another planet, I once saw a picture of what they said was the last of the Time Lords. Around his neck, he was wearing the same thing that Waldo was wearing that night. According to Lori's mind, it was called a "bowtie".

The car left.

"Good evening, miss," Waldo said.

"Good evening," I said. "What's this?"

"I said I wanted to give my best. This is my best, at least for now. I hope you're not disappointed."

I don't know about Earth women, but I hadn't known a woman in the entire universe who would be disappointed by such a majestic piece of land.

"I'm not. You can be sure of it," I replied.

"Good. Now, I prepared two songs if that's alright with you."

"It is."

"I'll play one before dinner and one after."

"If that's what you want."

He nodded and went to sit in front of the piano.

"I'll confess something that I haven't told anyone before," he told me. "When I write music I try to get something specific. You know when you hear a song and you feel a certain something inside you? And that song always makes you feel like that, it touches something inside. And that's amazing because it's just noise and words but it can transmit a whole experience to you. You know what I mean?"

I didn't.

"Maybe," I said.

"Well, when I write music I remember the way I feel at certain times and I want to get that in my music. I want to transmit what I felt at a moment with a song. I don't know if it works, and yet, here is my attempt at it."

He put his fingers gently on the keys. It had been a long time since I had heard anybody play an instrument. He played a chord. He made a pause then went on moving his fingers along the piano. He looked so focused, so serious. He was pressing every key at the right moment. I'm not a musician, but I could see he was good at it. Why did he believe he shouldn't share this with the world? I'm not even from his world and I was amazed by it. And I felt it. I felt what he had talked about. I felt something inside me just by hearing noises. And I liked it. I didn't know what it was and I liked it. I wanted more of it. I was so hungry when the car left me there, but as soon as I heard him play I forgot all about it. It's like I didn't need it anymore.

He made a brief pause and opened his mouth to sing.

_I haven't met you_

_Yet still you are_

_Inside this blue_

_And now bitter heart_

_As morning dawns_

_With me you rise_

_And my soul asks_

_To meet you tonight_

That's what I remember of the song. I don't know if these lyrics mean anything on Earth. I don't know if they mean anything to anyone in the universe. I know that when I heard them with his voice and accompanied by the notes he was playing I felt close to him, I felt that I knew him better, and I felt an enormous desire to know him more.

He finished. He turned to me.

"What do you think?"

I was with my mouth half opened, not able to move my eyes from him.

"It was great," I said.

"Thank you. Shall we have dinner now?"

"Uh… yes, yes."

He took my hand and guided me to the table. He pulled the chair for me and I sat. He sat in front of me.

"This is my favorite spot in all the property," he told me.

"Is it?"

As I said that, a couple of waiters appeared out of nowhere. They brought a plate for each one of us.

"I didn't know what you liked," Waldo said, "so I told the cook to prepare what we had in the restaurant the other day. I hope it doesn't bother you."

"It's alright."

"Good. So yes, this is my favorite spot. I used to come here on nights like these when I was little. I still do, sometimes. It's very peaceful."

"I imagine. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I knew you were rich, I just didn't know you were _filthy_ rich."

He grinned.

"I know."

"I'm not sure how things work here on Earth—I mean Wales, but I'm sure that just making music for others doesn't buy all of these."

"You're right. Dad wasn't just a musician; he was also some kind of business man. He bought shares here and there and also owned a recording studio. And no, I'm not going to record an album just because I can."

"So you don't just make music, you also manage what he left."

"I guess."

"And when you do music you do it well."

Waldo shrugged.

"Not well enough."

"Waldo, don't say that. If you don't believe you're not good you can't expect other people to believe it for you."

"I don't, I just… maybe I'll show it to someone else. But later."

"No, soon."

"I'll know when it's ok to show it."

"You've been waiting for years for it to be ok. Just do it!"

He began to laugh.

"You sound just like my mum."

I blushed and took my hand to my face.

"Oh, please don't say that!" I said as I laughed. I hadn't intended to do any of that. I was letting Lori out. I had to get myself together.

"I'm just saying. It doesn't mean anything," he said.

"I know. Whatever," I replied composing myself.

"You know, I don't know much about yourself except for your name and your, er, workplace. Do you have any family near, friends, ex-husband?"

"No, nothing like that, just my, em, co-workers."

"Oh, alright. Where are you from?"

Where was Lori from?

"Hereford," I said.

"Oh, that's far. Why did you come here?"

Yes, why would Lori want to come to Cardiff? Apparently she wanted to be an actress for the BBC.

"I wanted to be an actress. Didn't work out, of course."

"Why not? You're still young. Here you are telling me to show the world what I have while you don't want to show what _you_ have."

"Oh, many have seen what I have, Waldo."

"I didn't mean that."

"We're done with dinner, why don't you play your other song?"

He got up and shook his head.

"You're a coward, just like me," he said as he walked to the piano.

"What's this song called?" I asked.

"It doesn't have a name yet. Or lyrics. I don't think it will have any."

"Ok. Carry on."

He put his hands on the piano and again there was this incredible feeling flooding me. How did he do it? He looked like a doctor operating on a patient who might die any minute, yet he did it with such ease and in a very peaceful manner. I've seen planets and stars and many marvels of the universe, but when he played I didn't want to be anywhere else. I didn't want to travel in my spaceship, I wanted to travel in his notes and in his words. I wanted him to write me a song and make me feel I could travel the universe without having to move.

The song was finished.

"And that's it," he said and got up.

"Very nice."

"Thank you."

I looked at him. He looked all stiff and tight.

"You should try to relax more," I told him. "A lot more."

"Why? Don't I look relaxed?"

"Not at all." I walked to him. I tried to shake him and he barely moved. "See? You're all stiff."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You are. Stop being stiff!" I shouted as I pushed him.

He took a couple of steps back, lost his balance and fell in the fountain. I had to laugh at the sight.

"What's the—?" He said as he got out. He began to laugh to. "What's the matter with you?"

"See, you're more relaxed now. That suits you better."

"It might suit you better, too."

He grabbed me and lifted me. He was surprisingly strong.

"Waldo! No! Stop, what are you—!?"

And then I was in the water, too. He got in and began to splash me. I retaliated.

"Is this relaxed enough!?" he said.

"Shut up!"

We continued until we realized how stupid we looked. Waldo got out and helped me after. "This way, miss," he said. I splashed him one more time.

We got into the house. He insisted he couldn't let me go home in my wet clothes and that he could find me something to wear somewhere. As we got in I suspected Waldo was from Gallifrey and that his house had been built with Time Lord technology, because, I swear, even if it didn't look possible, it was way bigger on the inside.

"This place is huge!" I exclaimed

"I suppose," Waldo replied. "Come, I might have something in my room."

I followed him. Some might say that following a man to his chambers might not be an appropriate thing, according to Lori's memories, but considering Lori's profession I believe it didn't matter much. We got to his room. It was the size of Lori's apartment, just like the fountain.

"I might have something from my mum here," he said as he took his jacket off. Then his shirt. I couldn't get my eyes away from him. Suddenly I remembered how hungry I was. Now I wanted him, I wanted Waldo and I wanted him desperately. And not just me, Lori wanted him, too. Lori wanted to have this man. He wanted him and right now. And I could, I could just have him there, feed my hunger and get it quiet for a while. But that meant Waldo would have to die. And I didn't want that. He was just another human, another one who would eventually be rubbish, just like the rest of them. But I didn't want him to die. Still, I had my hunger. "I found this," he said giving me a shirt and a skirt. "Is this ok?"

"Yes, this will do."

I took it and began to undress. Waldo quickly turned away.

"Eh, um, don't you—would you like me to leave?" he said, or stuttered.

I grinned.

"Waldo, I'm a prostitute, remember?"

"Oh, yes, I know, it's just—it's not that, um—"

He placed his eyes on me, on my half-dressed body. I saw a burning desire in them, like a visual representation of what I was feeling inside. He came closer, grabbed my face and kissed me. I felt his hands on my legs lifting me. He dropped me on his bed. He was all over me. He was another man, another human male, but he felt entirely different. I wanted this man like I had never wanted another one, and Lori wasn't helping. I had decided it, I was having him there in his bed and I didn't care what happened next. I needed the energy, _needed it_. And if for some reason I was going to enjoy it more then so be it. I felt his hand on my knee. Everything kept getting better. He was raising his hand. It went higher, higher, higher—

I grabbed his arm and tightened my grip as hard as I could.

"No," I said.

"What?" a confused, lust-drunk Waldo asked.

"No, Waldo. We're not doing that."

I got out of bed. Waldo still looked confused.

"I don't, I don't—" he said.

"Waldo, I can't, I just—"and I looked at him again. I grabbed and kissed him. And I wanted him again. The desire wouldn't leave my body. I pulled him away. "I can't."

"But, Lori, I—"

"Don't say it!" I warned him. "I know what you're thinking and I don't want you to say it!"

"Why not? What I feel is real. Just because you don't believe in it doesn't mean—"

"I don't believe in it and neither should you! You know why I don't believe in it!? Because it's a lie, a big bloody lie used by people as an excuse to do the stupidest things. And if you listen to that lie tonight you're gonna do the stupidest mistake of your whole fucking life!"

Because that would be the end of it. It would be the last thing you ever do in your whole life.

"I don't understand," Waldo said. "You have… you know."

"What? I have sex every night? Yes, I do, Waldo, I have sex with lots of men, but they're men that don't matter and—"

I stopped myself. I made him smile. I denied him sex and I made him smile.

"I matter?" he asked.

"I didn't say that."

"But you—" he saw my face of disapproval. "That's fine, that's fine. And you don't have to sleep with me tonight, but it's late and you're wet. I insist you spend the night here in the guest room and I won't take no for an answer."

I took a few moments. I nodded.

"Alright, I'll stay."

"Thank you. Would you follow me please?"

He took the dry clothes and opened the door for me. He walked to another room, opened the door again and let me in.

"Here are your clothes, though now that I think of it you might need other kind of clothes to sleep. You'll find some in the drawers. You can wear these tomorrow. I'll leave you alone now. There's a restroom right there and if you need anything else you know where my room is."

"Thank you," I said.

"Have a good night."

"You too."

He left. I changed my clothes and dropped on the bed, hungry and tired.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_I wish I'd never met you. I wish I was dead. No, I wish you were dead. Call me back._

_-Torchwood, Day One_

I woke up, tried to get out of bed. I was still hungry. And now there was something else. There was something wrong with Lori's body. Earth might provide the best energy for us but there's a reason my kind doesn't come here often. Humans are not good hosts. They can't stand us for a long time. How long depends on the host. Now Lori was about to reach her limit; her whole body would just burst.

I got dressed and went out. I found Waldo's butler. He told me Waldo was waiting for me outside. I followed him. He took me to the garden, where there was a table with Waldo standing next to it. He helped me to sit down, as usual.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

They brought us the food; waffles and pancakes and eggs and toast. I ate all of it. Waldo looked surprised. I was incredibly hungry and all of this food barely helped.

"Are you ok?" he said.

I just nodded and continued eating.

After we were done I asked Waldo if somebody could take me home. He offered himself but I refused. He looked disappointed, but agreed. I left in the limousine again.

I got home. My hunger was growing. Lori's body was getting weaker. I needed something. I went outside. There it was again, sex everywhere. You couldn't walk a block on this planet without finding a reference to sex. It's ridiculous; there are pictures of sex even at the sides of what they call "buses" and at their docking place, which they call "bus stops". I went into a shop. There was only one man. I grabbed him and took him in the back; he didn't stand a chance. I felt better. I kept going around the block. It was so easy, even in the middle of the day. When I began to feel better, I went back home. I threw myself into Lori's bed. My hunger was satisfied—or so I thought. I closed my eyes and I saw Waldo. I wanted him. Even after feeling replenished I wanted him. I turned on the television to get distracted. I found more sex. I turned it off. I sat there and just waited for this idea to disappear.

I went back to the brothel. I was hungry again. It seemed that the energy lasted less every time. I looked around. There was the normal amount of clients and I was disappointed. Why? I kept looking around to find something more. I realized I was looking for Waldo. I came to the brothel thinking that he might be there to hire me. I grabbed one of the clients and took him into the room. When I was finished with him I felt strange. I absorbed his energy and it made me feel better, but I stayed there as if expecting something more. I got another one—same feeling. I called another one. This time I couldn't do it. I knew he would give me energy but I didn't want it.

I left. I got home, closed all the windows and stayed on bed holding the pillow against my head.

I woke up. Again, I was hungry and Lori's body was getting weaker. I needed to find another body immediately. But if I left Lori then Waldo wouldn't recognize me. He thought I was Lori, he didn't know who or what I really was. Why did I care so much about what Waldo thought!?

I didn't dare to go out. I would be reminded of my hunger and it would get worse. I could wait until night, it wouldn't be that hard. The phone rang a few times. I didn't answer, I knew it was Waldo. He kept leaving messages on the machine humans have for when they don't want to pick up the phone. I ignored them all.

When the afternoon came I began to feel hungry. I ate Lori's human food to help me. It kept me alive, that's all it did, _it just kept me alive_. I needed more. I _wanted_ more. The hours went by slowly. Finally the time to go arrived. I was about to go out when I thought about what I was about to do. I was going to have sex. Now the idea for some reason seemed disgusting and repulsive. I imagined all my clients touching Lori's body, kissing it, saying things to her ear. I imagined them between her legs. I felt something I didn't know it existed; I felt nauseated. I remained still for a few minutes, let it pass. Finally I got up. I thought about it again. The nausea came back. I wasn't going anywhere that night. I sat on the floor and remained there until I fell asleep.

Next morning came. I was terribly hungry and Lori's body was on the verge of bursting. I tried to calm my hunger with human food again. It barely helped. Waldo called again. His voice was beginning to sound worried. I still didn't answer. It was a long, painful day. Everything hurt. At some point I looked at the clock. It was time to go to the brothel. I wasn't going tonight either. I stayed on the floor until I passed out.

I opened my eyes. It was five in the morning. I had to get energy and I had to get another body. I was about to die. I just needed to find another body and shag anything that could orgasm. _Anything_. I was on the most sexualized planet and I wasn't getting any sex. I was pathetic. Then I had an idea. Females. For some reason sex with females didn't make me feel bad. And then something else. Lori sold sex. I was on Earth, I could buy sex anywhere. I grabbed Lori's purse and got out. I covered my eyes but I still caught glimpses of the advertisements. I remembered a place they had told me about at the brothel, a place where prostitutes offered entertainment for "different tastes". I found it. The women there were finishing their shift. Most of them were about to leave.

"Want to be the last of the night, honey?" one of them asked.

I nodded violently. She laughed and told me to go with her. The door closed and I launched myself to her. I began to kiss her and she might have thought I wanted to eat her at that moment. I think I actually tried.

But it wasn't working.

"It's not working," I said as I pulled myself away.

"You need time, honey?"

"_It's not working!_" I repeated. "_It has to be a man!"_

I ran out. I thought it was a myth but they were right—it only works with males. I cursed my planet and I cursed my whole kind. I went back home. I got on my knees and did another thing I hadn't done before: I cried. I cried and shouted and pounded the floor. I did it until I passed out.

I woke up. It was dark. I should have been at the brothel already. I could barely move and I felt like I was losing control. Lori was trying to take over. I didn't let her. "I'm going to leave you," I said. "I'll get the body of another prostitute, and shag a hundred men and satisfy my hunger." I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about Waldo or Lori, I just wanted to survive.

I got to the brothel. The world was disappearing. I couldn't feel anything except pain. The women asked what had happened to me this past couple of nights. I didn't answer. I got to the clients. And I saw him, sitting in the same spot where I talked with him the first time.

"Lori," Waldo said. "I was so worried about you. I'm sorry if I did anything to you. I thought about going to your place, but I thought that could make things worse. I don't want to be invasive."

Why you idiot, why you had to come to the brothel looking for me? I had already decided to leave your life forever and live mine away from you and Lori. And now that he was there, right in from of me, with that look on his face I thought about doing something very stupid.

The world stopped. There was nothing in my mind anymore except for Waldo.

"Come," I said and grabbed his hand.

I took him to the room. Our clothes were off in seconds. I was on bed, naked, and he was on top of me. I didn't care if I died or if he died or whatever happened. He was going to be _mine_ that night.

He touched my face, my neck. His hands traveled across my back. He grabbed my legs and spread them. I felt him go in, felt him between my legs, and we began.

Of all the experiences I've ever had all over the universe this one was the best. I knew it would be different and it felt different. And it felt an infinite amount of times better than I expected. All that energy I had sucked all my life that felt like the sweetest thing now looked like nothing. There was nothing like this in the whole universe. I wanted that feeling to last forever, to last beyond time and space and everything that I knew.

But I knew it couldn't last.

We couldn't stop it. I didn't want to and he didn't want to. We were going to finish this, even if we died doing it. And I knew it was going to be him or me. I was too weak. If I left Lori's body to find another one I would die. They were too far. I would die almost immediately. But I couldn't kill Waldo. I looked at his face of pleasure and enjoyment. I finally saw happiness in him, sincere happiness, and I thought how twisted this universe was where a prostitute's bed was the only place a wonderful, talented young man could find comfort.

I placed my eyes on his. I kissed him, kissed his lips, his face, his neck, his chest. And I knew it, I was certain of it. Nobody had to explain it, nobody had to tell me what it was, because I was absolutely sure of it. In that moment, I felt love. I felt love for Waldo and I felt loved by him. I grabbed his hair, pulled his ear close to me and I whispered words I had never believed in: "I love you."

The world disappeared and I was glad because we didn't need anything else. He was giving me everything I wanted, and he was making me want more and more, and the more I demanded from him the more he gave me.

I made my decision, a stupid decision, but I was proud of it. Right before he reached his climax, I left Lori's body. "He's all yours," I said. She was happy. She had wanted this man as much as I had. Waldo didn't even see me. I watched him consummate what he had wanted that night in his room. He didn't feel alone anymore.

I went down slowly, feeling nothing but the ghost of Waldo's body all over me. I felt like I was heading into an eternal state of pleasure provided by him. If I had possessed a body you would have seen me go down smiling until the very end, regretting nothing.

That was the day I made the stupidest decision. That was the day I believed in something absurd and ridiculous. That was the day I was proved wrong. And that was the day I died.


End file.
